


(I think I made you up inside my head)

by Waterloo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Asexual Bucky Barnes, Asexual Character, Asexual Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waterloo/pseuds/Waterloo
Summary: When Bucky Barnes is 18 years old he stops aging.A tale of quiet love, stolen lives and hardwon forgiveness.





	(I think I made you up inside my head)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a strange amalgamation of comic book and movie canon. There was a point where I actually had reasons and lines drawn out for this but I kind of got to the point where I was like 'fuck it' and cherry picked what was interesting. This story was born when I thought about how cute it would be if a Bucky came back and he still looked 18. That was meant to be fluffy but instead it was this. 
> 
> It was also born of 1. Me watching Age of Adaline 2. Running out of Stucky fics and so accidentally delving into Stony 3. My adoration for Bucky. 
> 
> It's kind of weird to me to write a Bucky that isn't in love with Steve but I guess? There's a first for every thing. Even if it is writing het.
> 
> This is kind of a mess b/c I wrote it on a train but I hope you can still find enjoyment in it.
> 
> (P.s I've been re-reading the runaways comics so some characters from that might pop in lol)
> 
> WARNING: some mentions of suicide, casual violence of the winter soldier/war kind, anxiety and panic attacks decribed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:  
>  Exit seraphim and Satan's men:  
>  I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
> 
> I fancied you'd return the way you said,  
>  But I grow old and I forget your name.  
>  (I think I made you up inside my head.)
> 
> I should have loved a thunderbird instead;  
>  At least when spring comes they roar back again.  
>  I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.  
>  (I think I made you up inside my head.)

-Sylvia Plath, Mad Girls Love Song 

 

* * *

 

 _It takes him only moments to realise he can't diffuse the bomb, but he tries anyway. Wrestles with red and blue wires as Steve sits at the control desk yelling back updates, and thinks_ how God damn patriotic.

_But the things too twisted up, too complex. Bucky saw his first bomb at 11 and diffused his first at 15, but he can't do it this time. Can't do it on the one time it really, truly matters._

_"Bucky we're getting close to the water! Bucky maybe we could crash before it goes off--" Steve calls back, twisting around to look at him._

_Bucky stares at the bomb, which reads in mocking neon green numerals "00:05" and keeps ticking. He thinks about opening a door and changing his life; he thinks about the first man he killed and the first one he saved and the first that saved him; he thinks about how good a man Steve is, how he has never loved a friend more than he loves Steven Rogers, Captain goddamn America or not; he thinks about his parents and how they died too young as well; he thinks about the mirror, where his reflection hasn't changed in two years._

_James Buchanan Barnes, in his final moments, thinks_ well at least this way no one will ever figure it out.

_The bomb explodes._

 

* * *

 

"Holy Mother of God you're Captain fucking America!"

When Bucky was six his mother had told him he was the _nosiest gosh darned kid_ she'd ever met. She'd said _curiosity killed the cat, James Buchanan_ and Rebecca had looked smugly at him so Bucky had retorted _yeah but satisfaction brought him back again_ and gotten boxed around the ears.

Bucky thinks that this kind of satisfaction could ressurect him a thousand times over.

Steven Rogers, five years his senior and only a Private to boot, is _Captain America_. Steve stares at him in horror for a few moments before his angelic face twists into a scowl

"Maybe knock next time kid" He says in his thick Brooklyn accent

Bucky scowls back, but it's dimmed slightly by the joy of his discovery "It's a tent, Stevie. And ain't you got anything to say for yourself?"

Steve does his best to look imperious but Bucky knows that Steve's biggest flaw is intrinsic humbleness so it doesn't really work "So what if I am, it's none of your business squirt"

Bucky would like to point out that he's only a few inches off've Steve's own height before a thought strikes him. _Didn't ya here?_ He remembers Stewart saying loudly in the mess hall that morning _They're shipping big-boots Captain America off to Europe._

"Take me with you" Bucky blurts out, thinking of Europe and battlefields and anywhere that isn't god damned camp Lehigh with its memories and it's ghosts and it's soldiers. "You're goin' to Europe. Put me on your sqaud"

Steve stares at him, eye brows scrunched up and captain America costume still hanging around his waist. He's got his cowl scrunched in his hand and Bucky thinks _that must be uncomfortable_. "You're fifteen" Steve says.

Bucky opens his mouth to start what will be the first true argument of his and Steve's friendship. It lasts for two hours.

It's pointless anyway. The next day their commander, who's known Bucky since he was a kid crying over his daddy's death, calls him into the command room. He tells him he's the best marksmen they've got. He tells him that he's had more accidental training then any Private needs.

He tells him he's being sent off to fight by Captain America's side

When Steve hears he scowls, but says only _You better not die_ , _kid_ before resuming their on-going argument about the funniest Krazy Kat strip

* * *

 

When Bucky is sixteen and has been trailing after Captain America in a stupid costume for six months, he kills his first man.

Well, this is the first of his kills he has ever seen the life drain out of up close.

The thing is, they got all the bad guys. The thing is, they can't leave the hideout they got them in until the Cap gives the all-clear.

Bucky holds the Italian guy with the bullet wound in his neck until all of his blood has seeped out onto Bucky's stupid blue tights.

Bucky requests a regular uniform. Instead, they give him red tights and say it's for the morale.

Bucky starts catching Steve lost in thought staring at his hands more and more. Bucky gets it. He thinks about blood a lot too.

                       

* * *

 

Namor is a grumpy bastard who hates Bucky more than anything, but he's a good man in a fight. Even better than that, he's a good man in a bar.

Bucky is seventeen when he loses his virginity to a girl that Namor introduces him to. Her name is Caroline and she pronounces it the French way and so he does too. She's sweet, and afterwards she places four kisses to his forehead, both eyelids and finally his lips. Between each one she whispers ' _stay alive'._

_Stay alive, stay alive, stay alive._

                     

* * *

 

When Bucky is eighteen years and twenty seven days old, he falls into a frozen lake in a lightning storm in Austria. He dies

His heart is stopped for two minutes while Steve screams for him and Namor holds him back. _He's gone,_ Jim keeps saying,  _Rogers, he's lost._

Bucky doesn't hear this. Bucky is dead

From the swirling sky, a bolt of perfect lightning cuts its way through the air. It hits the water. It throws the living men back three feet and Steve breaks free from the sea kings grip

When Bucky Barnes is pulled from the freezing water by Steve Rogers, the idiot, his heart is beating.

"Steve" he chokes out "Steve, you idiot"

                               

* * *

 

Something changes. It takes him a year to notice, but he does. Bucky notices because the changes between sixteen and seventeen had been drastic, and the changes between seventeen and eighteen even worse.

Bucky notices because between eighteen and nineteen nothing changes at all. The reflection staring back at him has looked exactly the same for the last 365 days. Not a hair's changed. He doesn't even have to shave anymore. 

But it's not just that, it's something in his blood. In his cells. Bucky feels changed, a gap between him and the whole world. Bucky feels like he could jump into a blazing fire and not get burnt. Something changes.

At eighteen years old Bucky Barnes stops aging.

* * *

 

It's two months before the end of the war (two months before a bomb and Zemo and Steve saying _"Bucky maybe we could-"_ ) when an old man in a small French village takes a bullet meant for Bucky.

Bucky cries, but not for the blood that weeps from the man's chest. He cries for the wrinkles on the old man's face, for the life written out across his skin in crow's feet and liver spots and grey hair. Bucky cries for a life lost, for _his_ life lost.

Bucky thinks _they'll take me_. He thinks _when they figure out what I am they'll take me to be tested and I'll never come back._

Bucky cries for the old man and he thinks _I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not a man worth saving._

 

* * *

 

_"Bucky maybe we could-"_

Five seconds. His whole life in five seconds. His whole life in only 20 goddamn years.

The bomb goes off.

 

* * *

 

  
The history books will say that James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers died in an explosion over the Arctic ocean.

  
In seventy years, some lucky fisher man will find the frozen body of Captain America. History will have gotten it wrong and he will be a  superhero again.

  
Two years after this, Steve will look Bucky Barnes, not a day older than eighteen, in the eyes and think _god I must be dreaming._

  
Here's the thing, history got it wrong twice.

 

* * *

 

The asset is useful, its handlers tell It, because It does not change.

Its handlers tell It that they struck gold, and snicker with whoever else is in the room.

The scientists prod and poke and take from it. Blood and cells and samples. Nothing comes back making _sense_ , they say, nothing makes _sense_.

 It thinks It remembers something. It think It remembers a mirror. 

A reflection over and over. But no. It has two arms in these 'memories'. They must be a mistake, something it must train out. The asset does not change.

The asset is gold.

 

* * *

 

It meets the woman with ribbons of red hair at the opera. Before she shoots two bullets into its stomach, the asset takes a moment to think that It looks like blood. _Blood on an old man's chest--_

They'd been sharing a box. When the woman shoots at It, the asset topples backwards over the ornamental bannister.

Down below, the opera stops mid-aria and the air fills with screams.

The woman's face does not change once.

 

* * *

 

" **я Наталия** " She says, then blinks like she's startled she'd spoken. _I'm Natalya_.

From it's hospital bed, the asset reaches out it's only arm to the woman. " **Джеймс** " it says " _James_ "

It does not know why It says that. For the second time, the woman leaves It behind.

 

* * *

 

  
It is seconds or decades or moments. To the asset, time is inconsequential. Time does not touch It. It is not something it is allowed.

It could be decades, but the woman looks almost the same. Her hair has been cut short and, from somewhere deep in the sponge of its brain, it thinks it would like to run it's hands through the blood red locks.

They're on a rooftop somewhere in Beirut, Lebanon. " **я ухожу** " the woman says, her eyes boring into his " **я мог бы вытащить тебя** "

The assett does not have need for Russian anymore. Perhaps It hasn't needed it in years. The language has been wiped from the assets mind as all useless information is.

The woman stares at It, gun held steady but trigger held loose. " **Джеймс?** "

Something in It snaps. It shoots her in the thigh and dives off've the roof.

It has no need for names.

 

* * *

 

Pierce calls It _petrushka_  because sometimes, he says, It talks in Russian in Its sleep.

Pierce hits It for this. It thinks _**вне**_  and then winces.

It is a bad asset.

 

* * *

 

On the bridge, the man calls him Bucky and for a moment the asset is curious.

 _Curiosity killed the cat_  It thinks and-

No. No the assett does not think at all.

The asset _kills_.

"Who the hell is Bucky? _"_

 

* * *

 

After the helicarrier, after the river, It (no, _he_ ) wanders somewhere east.

He, It, keeps closing Its, no _his_  eyes to find the swirling colour of blood. Like the swish of a silky length hair. Like a bullet wound and a man arching through the air.

Sometimes in his dreams he hears arias and he wakes up screaming.

 _Natalya_ , he thinks upon waking. _Natalya who got out._

 

* * *

 

The man who called him Bucky trails him clumsily for a year. He doesn't let him or his friend with the wings get close, but sometimes when they're accompanied by a woman with red hair he lingers.

Once, she shouts his name. "James" she calls, as he ducks into a crowd. She calls him James, even as his memories and the man from the bridge call him otherwise.

She calls him James, and something in him shifts.

 

* * *

 

They always ask him for ID. After some of the memories come back, he realises it makes no sense. Born in 1925, still eighteen. Born in 1925 and _still eighteen_.

Bucky, his name is _Bucky_ , goes to England because he remembers something about girls with victory rolls and the sound of bombs breaking buildings as they fall. Not London, London makes him think too much about the man on the bridge and someone who could burn and not die and a man with wings on his ankles. Sometimes Bucky doesn't trust his own memory.

He goes to Manchester, to Liverpool. He goes to the Beatles museum and remembers a man through a window who'd been singing _hey Jude, don't let it..._  before Bucky had put a bullet through the glass and through his head. Bucky remembers glass shattering, Bucky remembers blood.

Bucky remembers blood too much. Bucky remembers the startling healthy red of the man on the bridge, who's blood would fall from wounds that would heal in moments or hours. But he remembers his own blood, the blood of his victims. Bucky remembers children and men and their mothers. Bucky remembers how he broke their skin and watched their life fall to the earth.

Bucky goes to Edinburgh. Bucky sits on a bench at the top of a city of steps and dry rivers and old stone. There is a castle behind him, one that's been there for centuries.

It makes Bucky calm. It makes Bucky think of how things can age and change and _stay_. It makes him think that things can be both ancient and timeless and hardly there at all.

Perhaps Bucky is old stone too. Bucky has been sieged, but Bucky is still standing. Will always stand.

 

* * *

 

He has always had a thing about mirrors. That's still a novelty to him, the power of having memories and habits.

But the mirrors, the mirrors live in his bones. He remembers his mother, a women with Bucky's eyes and warm hands and a scolding voice, reading him myths. _Not true_ she'd said, _only one God_ she'd said. But she'd told him about Narcissus and his lake and how vanity was something to be punished.

Perhaps that was what this was. Perhaps he had sought out mirrors and the mirrors had pushed him out. Taught him that looking was crime. Bucky remembers being an army brat who'd nicked pomade from the soldiers and slicked his hair back. He had been meticulous.

He leaves his hair long, longer than his shoulders and ragged and unkempt. He lets it hang around his face or ties it with a ribbon. He learns how to plait from a little girl in Mumbai who'd petted his hair like he was a cat.

The long hair makes him look older. The plaits make him look like an eighteen-year-old green boy who's never seen a goddamned thing.

Sometimes he forgets to brush it and it gets knotted and old ladies look at him in disapproval. But Bucky is eighty-eight years old even if he doesn't look it so he thinks he's excused. 

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Bucky dreams of wires, blue and red and neon green numbers ticking out a funeral march

The bomb explodes.

Sometimes Bucky dreams of falling and realises he can't remember how to land.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere on a hill in Wales, Bucky watches the sun rise weak and watery with a bottle of bottom shelf vodka in his hand. No where near as good as Russia, he thinks.

He thinks about buying a gun and never having to think again. It could just be blood. Just blood and emptyness and no memories he can't quite remember right

He makes himself stand up and walk back down the hill to the tiny village hidden in the valley. By the time he curls up in his rented bed with its lumpy mattress and hand made quilt and floral smell, the sun has rises

Bucky sleeps all day and when he wakes, the woman who runs the place  puts a plate of hearty food in front of him and looks at him like she can see it all. She clutches his shoulder, pushes his hair back from his forehead and says _you will find your way out of this, Cariad._

_It can be okay._

 

* * *

 

Bucky goes home. Well, Bucky goes to the only home he can remember. A man who always put Bucky before himself

But first he goes to Brooklyn, where a silver haired woman who tells the nurses to call her Becca and crochets her grandchildren scarves sits in a rocking chair

She is healthy and she has _aged_ and Bucky thinks,  _and satisfaction brought it back again._

 

* * *

 

"Holy mother of God" Steve says when he finds Bucky sat on his bed reading a book "Where the fuck have you been?"

Bucky smirks, tells him he's too protective. Steve calls him kid. Steve calls him _Bucky_ and cries.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Steve does, after holding Bucky for what seems like hours but also for not long enough, is to introduce him to his friends.

They run into two dark haired men in what Bucky assumes is a living room. They're bickering about something that Bucky doesn't understand, something with science? Or maybe maths.

 They spot steve and Steve goes to introduce them before the confident swarthy one cuts him of. "Anthony Stark, call me Tony. This is my building and my Avengers" Steve rolls his eyes "You the dude Steve's been trailing after for the last year?"

Tony stark is nothing like his father. When Bucky says this, still not quite having got the hang of keeping his thoughts to himself, Tony grins at him and his grin is like a flame or a flood light.

"Dear god Rogers where have you been keeping this one? I like him better than you already."

 Bucky looks at Steve in alarm, worried that he's going to find his friend upset. Instead Steve is rolling is eyes and grinning back at Stark. "Shove it, Stark. That was two years ago I've _said sorry_ "

 Steve says and Stark grins. "Hey now Rogers don't get Jealous. You'll always be my first nonegenarian it's just now I've found my favourite" Tony responds, fluffing up Bucky's hair and then frowning "Oh wait shit. You mind touching Bucky? I am call you Bucky right? Barnes sounds so formal and I definitely feel something here, something great."

 Bucky blinks, and shakes his head "Erm...no that's. That is fine." Bucky a not used to talking, or to people who talk this much "I'm 88, actually. So I guess.. I'm your favourite octogenarian?"

 Tony looks at him for a long moment, gaze assessing. "I was right. Wait, 88? I wouldn't put you a day over 18"

Bucky ducks his head, and sees out of the corner of his eye that Steve is looking at him with a considering look. Shit. "The Russians have good skin care?"

Tony barks out a laugh "Russian eh? Maybe we'll finally understand what Natasha calls us all under her breathe"

Bucky mutters that he doesn't want to ruin her fun in Russian, strained.

"That's the spirit, Barnes" Tony booms even though Bucky hadn't been saying anything to the affirmative.

 Steve and Tony are bickering again, but Bucky gets the feeling there's no true anger behind it. He looks behind Tony at the taller man who's looking at Steve and Tony with a small smile. He feels Bucky looking at him and nods "I'm Bruce. I live here too so I deal with this a lot" he joked awkwardly, holding his hand out for Bucky to shake.

 "Bucky Barnes" Bucky mutters. "Are they together?"

 Bruce chokes and there's a sudden silence in the room. Bucky blushes "Oh sorry I thought being queer was okay in the future. Er, sorry Steve"

 Steve is staring at Bucky with a pale face and both Bruce and Tony have gaping mouths. Bucky curses his new inability to interact socially. Fucking Hydra.

 The same mega watt grin unfurls on Tonys face "Cap....are you gay?"

 Steve blushes fiercely. "Bucky that was kinda a well kept secret"

 "Not in the fourties" Bucky teases and Steve rolls his eyes. "Steven Rogers did you get around? With boys?" Tony says, looking like all of his Christmas's had come at once.

 "I did not get around" Steve mutters bitterly. Bucky snorts and Steve glares at him. After a moment, they both seem to realise that it's been years, decades, and finally they are Bucky and Steve again. Steve grins at him, close to tears, and for the first time in months Bucky's smile comes naturally.

"Come on" Steve says "Let's go meet Clint"

 

* * *

 

Clint is nothing like Bucky would expect from a secret spy. They've done an unexpected tour around the building by the time they find him, crawling out of a vent space and army rolling upright. When he spots them, he gives then finger guns and salutes Steve.

 

 "Cap" he says as Steve helps haul him up. "Who's this?" Clint is blonde and somewhere under thirty. He has a few too many scars to be considered handsome and Bucky soon discovers, after two dick jokes in a row, that he's not exactly someone to be considered mature.

 

 They've ended up in what Steve calls 'the shooting range' (Clint calls it 'motherfucking heaven') by the time Steve gets called away for some important Captain America business.

 

 "Go save the world dancing monkey" Clint says, shooting an arrow after Steve as he goes. It hits the door with a thunk and Bucky can hear Steve cackling down the hallway.

 

 Clint turns to him after he's left "So what's your deal Barnes?"

 

 Bucky blinks "Oh, uh. Brainwashed by the Russian government"

 

 Clint nods "Yeah I know all about that"

 

Bucky raises his eye brows. "You too?"

 

"Nope. It was the circus for me. But I've got a friend, Natasha"

 

"Oh the Russian one. Tony said"

 

"Yeah. She should be around here somewhere but she's hard to spot. Like Randall from Monsters Inc." Bucky doesn't get the reference, but he nods along anyway. Clint shoots six targets and gets every one on the bullseye. Bucky's impressed.

 

 "You learn that at the circus?" Bucky asks with a low whistle.

 

 "Yeah. Best marksman in the world" Clint says it in a joking way but Bucky can sense a hint of pride under it. "I'm not on the team for nothing"

 

 Bucky stands up from the bench and walks over, talking out the shot gun he's been carrying on him. He stands steady, aims. Shoots. Again, again, again.

 

 Seven targets, right in the center. Clint stares for a few tense moments. "I was best sniper in my days" Bucky says off hand.

 

Clint turns to him slowly, squints "You seem cool Barnes but this means war"

 

 Eventually, Clint wins. After the final arrows been fired Bucky sees a few seconds of intense relief before it's erased by cocky surety. "See Barnes that's why I'm on the avengers and you're just an avengers best friend" Clint brags, slinging his equipment over his shoulder and jumping up, hooking one hand over the low hanging rafters and pulling himself up to rest in them.

 

 Bucky stares up at him eyebrows raised. He's about to respond that they'd been close when a voice calls out from the back of the room. "He's a God damn war hero, Barton. Show some respect"

 

 Bucky jumps and swivels around. There's a woman standing at the back of the room, posture impeccable and face impassive. She's got short platinum blonde hair and is wearing a dress and heels. Clint swings along the rafters easily before dropping down in front of the woman. He sweeps her up in a hug and she rolls her eyes.

 

"Barnes" Clint calls back "come meet Nat"

 

                 

* * *

 

  When Bucky was ten years old and his ma was still alive, she'd gone with his dad on an assignment. Somewhere long term where a married couple could be useful as a cover. Becca had been sent to live with an Aunt somewhere in Ohio. Bucky's dad had told him he was old enough to stay on the base, that the sarge would teach him to assemble a rifle.

 

 Bucky's ma had pressed a kiss to his forehead and had just been about to get into the cab when Bucky, close to tears, had called out "Why'd you have to go ma!?"

 

 Buckys ma had bent down in front of him and looked at him for a long time. "James my love, I've got a secret for you. It's important so you've got to listen really hard, alright? There is a love in the world which can change you. Right to the very core"

 

 She'd paused, looked back to the cab where Bucky's dad was looking out at them both with a soft smile. "Sometimes you love someone so purely that you would go anywhere for them, do anything. That's how much I love your father. And it's terrifying, but it's also the only real thing in this whole world" she'd smoothed a hand across his curls" That's how much I love you, too."

 

 As Bucky had watched the black cab twist away his Ma's last words had echoed in his ears. "One day I hope you find someone to love that much, too"

 

                     

* * *

 

'Nat', it turns out, is 5ft.8" of pure steel. She doesn't have a tell, and Bucky has been trained for over 70 years to see everyone's tells.

 

And....and Bucky knows her. Or maybe knows her, he's not sure. His up brain is still a mess, even if it's now all there at least. It's tangled yarn and wires. And somewhere in all that, there is a string that resembles Natasha.

 

She takes a long moment to stare at him after Clint makes the introductions. She tilts her head to the side, but Bucky thinks she might be playing that up. Making damn sure he knows she's really considering him.

 

"ты знаешь русский" Natasha says, you know Russian?

 

Buckys Russian had come back to him in stops and starts somewhere in Poland. He'd been carrying on a conversation with an older man who'd been telling Bucky about his traffic troubles when Bucky had realised that they'd both been speaking in Russian. It wasn't easy though. Sometimes Bucky's brain was a hole that things sunk into and never came out of.

 

"да" Bucky mumbles "Um, I'm better in English though. My memories not so good"

 

Natasha's face brightens. "They messed you up really good, huh?"

 

Something in Bucky stumbles. He doesn't like to think about it, the seventy years that were twisted and stolen from him. Sometimes the memories trip back into his mind without warning and he can't breathe.

 

He ducks his head, avoids the question. "I'm going to head back to Steve's room. Tired. I mean, I'm tired"

 

Clint nods looking concerned and Bucky doesn't look to see what Nat's face shows before rushing out of the room.

 

     

* * *

 

In the end he doesn't make it too Steve's rooms. On the way the panic starts to crawl up his through the and it chokes him. Too much, too much. He can't breathe so he pulls in more air but it just makes it worse and he's grasping and grasping and can't get his grip. No surface to land on. The world is spinning, spinning, spinning.

 

Bucky was in Belgium when he learnt how long panic attacks can last. Twenty minutes. The body can panic for twenty minutes without intervention. That's what he found out in licked hotel rooms where he knew no one was coming because he knew he hadnt let anyone in. He learnt to wrap himself in whatever he could find and huddle tight, tight.

 

Now he found himself collapsed in some chrome hallway that looks like every other, behind an oversized austentatious urn that Bucky can picture the future thinking of as 'classy'. Bucky thinks it looks stupid and would have said it was pointless except right now he's found it's a pretty good place to have a break down.

 

He can't breathe , he can't think. He's lost in a sea and he's drowning, downing and the world is shrinking before his eyes and he can't see, he can't see, he can't breathe.

 

The body can panic for twenty minutes. It must be some cheat code. Something built into the bones to stop sad gits like him panicking to death. Bucky know this, but he still feels like he's about to die.

 

He can't breathe, he can't breathe.....

* * *

 

"Barnes, wake up" A soft voice jolts him awake.

 

He's fallen asleep against the wall, knees pulled up and head tucked down. He jerks away, hands flying to the floor and braced to leap up and fight.

 

"Hey, hey. It's just me. I'm Natasha, remember. We've met before" Bucky blinks rapidly at the woman in front of him. Her brow is scrunched in concern and Bucky thinks, hey I got you to tell.

 

"Have we?" Bucky mutters, voice horse.

 

"An hour ago? In the shooting range?" Natasha says, an odd look on her voice.

 

"Right" Bucky says, running a hand over his face. He'd been sure....

 

"Was there a reason you were napping on the floor, Barnes?" Natasha asks quietly. Bucky hates the look in her eyes because it's all too knowing. He'd rather she pitied him than know the truth.

 

"I-- I get anxiety attacks. Sometimes. Ever since DC"

 

Natasha nods and reaches out her hand as if to touch him, then stops. In a flash she's up and standing and Bucky hardly sees it happen.

 

"Come on" She murmurs "I'll take you somewhere that doesn't have that ugly God damn vase"

 

"I think it's an urn" Bucky murmurs with a laugh.

 

"Isn't that what you put ashes in? "

 

"Uh, yeah. But if my ashes got put near anything as ugly as that is come back as a ghost out of spite" Bucky jokes weakly.

 

Natasha smiles at him and looks him over "I'd say you've got a good while left yet Barnes"

 

Bucky shrugs, following Natasha down another hallway and into a sleek elevator "I was born in 1925. Looks can be decieving"

 

"Can't they just" Natasha intoned, then stares at him "It's funny. You still looking like a teenager"

 

Bucky stays silent as he watches the lift travel floors, _112...113...114...._

 

                         

* * *

 

Here is the thing; Bucky knows it's odd. Bucky knows it's odd because he has had a whole team of doctors who's only job was to study him not have a single clue. Bucky knows it's odd because his hair doesn't grow, his skin doesn't change. Not even a God damn freckle.

 

But here is the other thing; Bucky knows that in this future of selfdriven cars and robots and computers the size of your palm people _still age_.

 

 Bucky does not. Bucky stays exactly the same. Even Steve, pumped full of magic serum and extra special healing abilities, has grey hairs.

 

Here is what James Buchanan Barnes does not know; when he was 18 years and 27 days old he fell into a frozen lake in Austria during a lightning storm, and this killed him. Before his heart stopped, Bucky Barnes was finally given a gift that had been living dormant in his genes his whole life. In the future they will call it a mutation, but perhaps it could be called magic.

 

Bucky Barnes will never age a day. His cells will never wither, his body will never change. Hw will be 18 years and 27 days old for all of eternity.

 

But eternal youth cannot stop hypothermia. If it had been a clear grey sky instead of a swirling storm, Bucky Barnes would have stayed dead and no one would have known a thing. But the lightning bolt that hit the water caused 1000 volts of electricity to be charged into Bucky's body. In the future they will call this called medicine, but perhaps it could be called magic.

 

Bucky Barnes' heart started again. Steven Rogers pulled him out and have him all the body heat he could.

 

But Bucky Barnes, standing in an elevator in the 21st century by only the grace of God and the chance of coincidence, knows only that he is odd. So he stays quiet.

 

The girl standing next to him in that elevator is odd too. She is older than she seems just as he is and there were a million choices in her life that would have led her anywhere but here, standing in an elevator with a man who, she thinks, _gets it_ just a little more than anyone else.

 

Perhaps that could be called magic.

* * *

 

They reach the top floor of the building with a cheery and, Bucky thinks, slightly mocking 'ding'. He looks at Natasha questioningly and she nods. "Come on"

 

She leads him out into a short foyer with only two doors, one grand and flashy and the other plain. "That's the penthouse where Tony lives" Natasha says gesturing to the fancy door, but leads the to the smaller one.

 

"Technically this is like 60 shades of out-of-bounds but, like, if Tony actually cares he wouldn't have made it so easy to break into" Natasha says as she picks the lock and shoves the door open with her shoulder.

 

There's a short flight of stairs then--

 

It's a garden. Right here on the top of sky scraper in New York City. It's green and lush and flourishing. "How....." Bucky says, trailing off as he skimshma hand over a rose bush.

 

"Tony says a wizard put it here after he helped him out with something" Natasha says "that doesn't seem legitimate but honestly....it's a tower full of super heroes so I wouldn't write the theory of completely" 

 

"My ma loved these flowers" he says, bending over a plot of Gardenias "My dad gave them to her before they started going together. They mean 'secret love' or something. Ma said it was the most romantic thing that ever happened to her. We lived in this little house in Long Island 'til dad re-enlisted and my mum had this row of white Gardenias....Becca stepped on one once, I swear I'd never seen my ma more mad"

 

Bucky doesn't know why he tells her this, but when he looks at her she's not giving him a look of boredom or judgement. Just a soft smile. Bucky knows, from assessing her as soon as  he'd first seen her, that she's carrying at least 7 weapons on her body and yet the smile fits her. It's a surprise. "That's lovely. I don't know a thing about flowers. I just thought you might need to see something beautiful"

 

Bucky doesn't smile because smiling feels like too much effort right now. Instead he sits on a tressled bench in the possibly-magic and definetely-secret garden and leaves a spot open beside him.

 

They sit for a while in silence before Bucky breaks it. "There are no red flowers"

 

Natasha looks at him for a long, steady moment, palms pressed flat  to the bench beneath her and Bucky thinks _always ready to pounce_. "No. No one here is really in the game of being reminded of blood."

 

_Yes_ , Bucky thinks with images of Steve's haunted eyes and Clint's steady arms Tony's manic speech, _I suppose you all see it easily enough when you close your eyes._

 

It has been too long a day but by the time that Steve is back and they've talked for hours about what they have lost and what they have built and Bucky us finally, finally, in his borrowed bed he thinks just maybe he's found somewhere to call home.

 

That night he dreams not of blood but of swishing red hair and white flowers being shot from a gun.

 

                       

* * *

 

It takes about three months for Bucky to begin to feel settled. This is because he has a panic attack every time he gets overwhelmed and because, as is expected after years of USSR funded brainwashing, almost everything has the possibility of overwhelming him.

 

But he also has friends. This is better, Bucky decides, then panic attacks in pay phone booths in Bangkok where he had no one to call and no one to care. It is better than suffering alone.

 

It gets better, though, because about three weeks into sleeping in Steve's guest room Tony had pulled him aside in the kitchen to tell him about the wonders of modern anti anxiety meds. Bucky had been kind of expecting Stark to whip out a secret illegal supply of prescription meds accompanied by a discreet wink. Instead he got the address of Starks therapist.

 

Her name is Dr. Greta and after three sessions she told Bucky that she 'felt strongly' that he would respond well to medication. After waiting the three week grace period for the meds to kick in, Bucky had decided he was firmly on the side of being medicated. Sertraline was a God send.

 

So now he has 60% fewer 'episodes' and they'd discovered the perfect dosage that would keep him way from his own suicidal thoughts but not also plunge him into medication induced suicidal ideation. It was a very thin wire buy Bucky was walking it and Bucky was _better_.

 

So he finds it hard to land sometimes-- his brain flits about and spins and swerves and Bucky me never knows how to just stop thinking. But he's here. His thoughts are his own.

 

Bucky has realised, though it has taken years and too much pain and loss and too little warmth, that the only thing to be truly treasured is freedom of self. To think. To be.

 

Bucky has realised the importance of finding beauty in himself, in the undeniability of his existence. It is the hardest thing Bucky has ever done but he tries.

 

In his dreams-- Well. There are less dreams now.

 

                       

* * *

The first thing he learns about the Avengers, in the midst of learning to speak his own mind again and also how the whole goddamn world works, is that they shouldn't work. As a team they make no sense.

 

Bucky has heard six variations of the Avengers genesis tale and every single one of them had contained a determined man who had been described on a scale from "means well" to "the scariest person I have ever met in my whole fucking life and I've met Natasha". When he is given the chance to actually meet Phil Coulson (risen from the dead, and Bucky thinks _dear god the future_ ) he is slightly disappointed.

 

After twenty minutes Bucky realises that this had been exactly what the man had wanted. This is the day that Bucky learns that unassumibility is a weapon. Phil Coulson is polite and professional and more than any of the beaurocracy. He. Knows. Everything.

 

So when Bucky wonders how anyone in their right mind could find the six miscreants Bucky now lives with and think 'ah there's a team to save the world', he remembers to blink again and see the knives in Coulson's suited body, the crazy behind his eyes. Nobody in their right mind would envision the Avengers, but Phil Coulson is not in his right mind. He's just really, really good at seeming like it.

 

Bucky has a theory that Agent Coulson keeps razor blades in his tie.

 

Perhaps the Avengers aren't that crazy, perhaps Bucky has just been given a never before seen backstage pass to the crazy. It's just....

 

Well, it's just there's Steve. It took Bucky about a week of moving home (and it's been seventy years but home was always which ever bed was closest to Steven G. Rogers) to realise that the future is all wrong about Captain America. When they describe him he is painted as patriotic and proper and unendingly just. Bucky Barnes knows that Steven Rogers is the most belligerent man on earth, knows that Captain America only exists because Steve took the word 'no' as a call to arms. Bucky knows that Steve read all of that Bertrandt Russles pamphlets and took them to heart like sermons. Knows that he'd make a British kid named Monty Falsworth tell him all about the National Insurance Act and Nye Bevan. Steven Rogers fought for the little guy and that little guy was never really Big ol' America with her stars and stripes. Most of the times it was a scrappy kid named Barnes who could never follow orders.

 

Then there's Stark. Bucky thinks Starks problem is that he's always been alone. Bucky has never been alone, never had an inch of personal space in all his years, so Bucky thinks maybe Stark is scared of the opposite of what he is. Bucky is scared of being alone. Stark is afraid of not being. It doesn't really bode well for teamwork.

 

As the nominal team leaders, it doesn't really bode well for liberty or justice- Stark is every factor of capitalism rolled into one sarcastic insecure ball with a goatee and Steve is all of those insecurities come to life in the body of a national hero. And yet....

 

Isn't there always an "and yet..". Steve and Tony work, eventually and by some miracle. Bruce tells him it wasn't always so, that Steve and Tony were so far from copacetic when they met that it almost brought the big guy out to play.

 

But they bicker and they disagree and they put the team first.

 

So it works. Most people when assembling a team to defeat the universe's evils would want the bravest and the most stable. Bucky thinks Coulson had it right when he chose the brave broken things.

 

After all, who else would go charging in to danger without regard for themselves? It takes suicidal people to undertake suicidal missions.

 

But then there's the everyday. Somehow, they help each other by being together. Maybe it's like arithmatic- negatives cancelling each other out. Bruce teaches Natasha to crochet and Clint helps Steve with pop culture and Natasha listens to Tony when he needs it and puts the fear of God in him to get him to sleep when he needs that too. Thor makes them all smile and they give him poptarts and cap'n crunch and he hugs them without thought or hesitation.

 

It makes Natasha groan and Tony wince and Steve always pats him back awkwardly- like he's got no idea if this is normal or not.

 

They're insane, Bucky find himself thinking. He thinks it when he's sat watching Gossip Girl with Natasha and Clint and Clint asks to braid his hair like that's normal. He thinks it when Steve curls up in bed with him and tells him stories about his day like they're 13. He talks about Tony with an exasperation that isn't fooling any one and Bucky thinks _you are all insane_. Bucky thinks it when he sees Bruce baking and Tony heckling him from the breakfast bar. At every team movie night, squad training session and trivia game that Steve and Bucky always, always lose.

 

He thinks _you're insane_ , and he thinks _so am I, thank God_. 

 

                           

* * *

 

He's on month four of the Avengers house of horrors gig when he finally places Natasha. Well, perhaps his own involvement is an exaggeration.

 

You see the first thing to happen is that Natasha's friend visits.

 

"I'm Tandy" she says "they call me Dagger"

 

Behind Tandy there is a skulking man with a black cape who kind of looks like he'd rather be anywhere but where he is. Tandy waves a hand at him "This is Ty, he's not big on people"

 

"That's okay" Bucky mutters. He'd been awakened by the sharp knocking on Steve's front door and he had hardly had a moment to collect his thoughts before Tandy had barreled on all bright, bright, bright and Bucky is not ready for this much enthusiasm at this time of day. "Um, are you looking for Steve? He's not in"

 

Tandy blinks at him for a moment and Bucky tacks on belatedly ".....sorry"

 

Tandy looks both ways as if checking where she is "Does Natasha not live here? Damn, I swear she said she'd started bunking at Starks stupid phallic tower"

 

Bucky stifles a laugh "Um, Natasha's floor is one up"

 

Tandy relaxes and 'Ty' huffs n emitters about directions. Tandy squints at him, cocking her head "Hey aren't you a little young to be an Avengers? I thought they had a baby squad for the fetuses now. You know, like Rainbows or Cubs"

 

Bucky sighs "I'm eighty eight I swear I just don't-"

 

Tandy brightens, if possible, even further. "You're a mutant! Oh excellent. Or wait, are you an alien? Because that's happened before. Though of course she did glow rainbow colours and you look pretty dull..."

 

"Um" Bucky said feeling, as he usually did in this century, entirely lost "No ones ever decided I'm anything before. I just don't...change. ever. Since I was eighteen"

 

"Hmm. And I bet something life threatening happened to you about then? That's how it usually goes down, if you are a mutant that is. Anyway, best go find Natasha. I told her me and Cloak-y here would take her out for tea. She gets cranky if I don't socialise her every now and then"

 

"Riiiight" Bucky says slowly, watching the luminescent superhero bound of followed by her grumpy shadow. Bucky bemoans the 22st century and pads off back to bed.

 

The second thing comes soon after the first.

 

Tandy Bowen, it turns out, is an exuberant fearless mutant who has known Natasha almost right since she, and her boyfriend Tyrone, got turned into mutants through forced drugging. Bucky is quickly learning that though the future may be bright, it is not all good.

 

Bucky is told Tandy's story by the woman herself after he finally emerges from his room and walks to the shared kitchen. Tony had put kitchens in all of the suites but it's always a safe bet that someone is cooking food in the communal kitchen so that's usually where he heads.

 

When he'd gotten there, he'd found Tandy and Natasha crowded at the kitchen table and Steve making pancakes. Ten minutes later he was all caught up and there was a beautiful stack of Steve's pancakes in front of them.

 

"So, where's tall, dark and terrifying gone off to?" Bucky asks, voice still scratchy. He still gets a tightness in his throat everytime he makes a joke- he is always waiting for someone to hit him for his insubordination.

 

Tandy laughs though and shares a grin with Natasha. "We don't usually go that far from each other but he does love getting together with Clint and throwing stuff at each other as some kind of 'man' bonding time"

 

"Well at least it means we can bitch about them in private" Natasha says, soft spoken. It has occured to Bucky, in a very unwelcome way, that Natasha's is beautiful. Even now, bare faced and with her blonde hair-- which Bucky has now realised is not it's natural colour-- shoved into a messy bun she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. It scares him and so he does what he does with all of the things that make him afraid-- he pushes it deep deep down into a box that he never ever has to look at again.

 

She makes it hard though. Maybe if they weren't both super-assasins breaking out of intensive brainwashing. Maybe if Bucky could stomach the thought of anyone touching him or of touching anyone else. Bucky knew that wanting a girl- or a boy- meant wanting to kiss them and touch them and have sex with them. Bucky had had sex. He didn't really see what all the fuss was about- but he knew it could feel good in a mechanical sort of way.

 

But when Bucky thinks about that now, thinks about people touching him, his stomach roils and his skin starts feeling too tight- like he can't breathe and there's nothing he can do about it. He blinks himself out of his thoughts and pulls himself back to the present.

 

Steve is teasing Natasha about something and Bucky tries to catch back up to the conversation. "-if you weren't so insistent on setting me up with some girl from accounting!"

 

"I think it was actually marketing. And anyway, if you'd _just said_ you were gay I would have found you a nice _boy_ from marketing" Natasha says, talking through a mouth full of pancake.

 

"I'm bi! And that's not the point. The point is I don't _want_ to be set up with anyone. I don't want to have a fling! I want--" Steve cuts off, blushing.

 

"True love" Bucky finishes for him gently "He's always been like that Nat, don't take it personal. He doesn't know how to not go in whole hog"

 

Natasha raises an eyebrow "You believe in true love, Rogers? Really?"

 

Steve shrugs, ducking his head and Tandy chimes in softly "Don't we all?"

 

"No" Natasha and Bucky say at the same time. They look at each other and Bucky wonders if they'd think differently if they'd been allowed to grow into their own people.

 

"Love is for children" Natasha says and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

"I thought that was just something you said to make people believe you're a heartless robot. I know you better than that"

 

Natasha shakes here head "It isn't a bluff- it's what I was taught"

 

"Well" Tandy says "Hopefully the world teaches you differently. And anyway, what about your opera boy?"

 

Natasha shoots a look at Tandy and Bucky gets the sense that if Natasha were a normal person she'd be blushing.

 

"Opera boy? Sounds romantic" Steve says, looking like the cat that got the Canary.

 

"It wasn't anything. It happened in the seventies anyway" Natasha says, stabbing her pancakes. "Tandy Bowen I will gut you, I swear"

 

Tandy pushes on fearlessly "There was an assassin at an opera- they both had the same mark but we're working for different people so Natasha shot him and he fell out of an opera box into the audience"

 

"Jesus Christ" Steve says, eyes popping out if his sockets. Something in Bucky's memory tingles.

 

"I know right? Anyway the romantic bit is that they kept meeting and Nat here told him her real name and she says it was like--"

 

"Like he broke the brainwashing a little" Natasha says, her accent thick. Usually Nat can make her voice as blank as a slate but Bucky has learnt that she always sounds more Russian the more upset she is "He put a chink in the red rooms armour and I could finally push through"

 

Tandy nods, looking sympathetic. "And then you asked him to come with you when you got out, right? But he couldn't remember you"

 

"He shot me" Natasha said, glancing at Bucky "But he missed everything vital and ran off afterwards so it was practically a kiss"

 

"Jesus, Nat" Steve says on a low whistle "That's like a movie or something"

 

There's silence in the kitchen for a few moments and all Bucky can think off is red hair, red hair...then Steve breaks it.

 

"Wait, were you even born in the seventies? How old are you Nat?"

 

Natasha shrugs "No idea. The red room figured out how to slow the aging process and keep their soldiers in mint condition. Ever since I ran from them I've been aging minisculey. Bruce says it's not stopped, just really really slow"

 

"Well" Bucky intones "We can be young together"

 

"That what they gave you Bucky?" Steve asks, brow furrowed.

 

"Nah" Bucky shakes his head but doesn't elaborate. Tandy raises her eyebrows at him but doesn't say anything either.

 

They all finish breakfast in relative calm and Tandy and Natasha get up to leave.

 

"We're just going out" Natasha says and finally it clicks. _я ухожу..._

 

_James I'm getting out, come with me.... **я мог бы вытащить тебя.......** _

 

_James..?_

 

"Natalya" he chokes out, thirty years of memories rushing back. She'd been something to hold onto when the only thing in his world was a cold box and a cruel man. She had been the only real thing in the whole world.

 

Natasha pauses in the act of putting on her coat and Steve and Tandy stare at him in confusion. Natasha blinks, something fragile passing quickly across her face "I thought you couldn't remember"

 

" **я помню. Я вспомнил** " Bucky says, chokes. _I remember now_  " **Мне очень жаль** "

 

"You don't need to apologise" Natasha says "Not for anything James. We were both pawns in a cruel game. It was fucking awful, but we're here now"

 

Bucky wants to say more, but he doesn't know what. So he just nods. Smiles. Natasha leaves with Tandy and it only hurts Bucky a little. 

 

"So, you knew Nat" Steve asks, coming up behind Bucky's shoulder. 

 

"In another lifetime" Bucky breathes "We knew each other in the way you know a fellow murderer. It wasn't exactly..." 

 

There's a soft moment and Steve takes the plates over to the sink. "It wasn't exactly War and Peace, you mean?" Steve jokes. 

 

Bucky laughs "You ever read that book? It's mostly battles and people dying of their wounds" 

 

"But they get together in the end, right?" Steve says, sending Bucky a knowing look. 

 

"With scars"  

 

Steve shrugs "Everyone has scars, don't mean they don't deserve love" 

 

"That goes for you too, Stevie" Bucky says

 

Steve blushes "Whaddaya mean, Buck?" 

 

Bucky snorts "It's been seventy years Steve but I still know you better than anyone. Don't pretend you ain't half in love with Tony Stark" 

 

Steve's blush intensifies and he stares fixedly at his hands. Bucky sighs "Alright, man. I'll let it go. But think about it alright?"

 

* * *

 

 

 Phil comes to talk to Bucky on a random Wednesday afternoon in February. He's wearing an expensive suit and his shoes are so shiny Bucky can see his reflection in them. It's annoying. Bucky has been trying to avoid his reflection for weeks now.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do now" Phil says. Bucky could respond-- _I think about nothing else except for all the future I have now._

"Not really" Bucky murmurs, because he has been a spy longer than Phil Coulson has been alive. Rule number one of interrogation; let them lay all of their cards on the table before you show a single one of yours.

Coulson nods. "We could help you find a job"

Bucky stays silent. Coulson doesn't react. "Maybe we could find a place for you"

After a moment Phil shifts. "In SHIELD"

Bucky tilts his head to the side "I thought SHIELD had died" _I thought I'd helped kill it._

"Nothing ever really dies" Phil murmurs "Just changes shape"

Bucky doesn't say anything. Phil sighs "Alright then, I get it James. I'm not sure I'd want to get back in if I'd--"

"What made you stay?" Bucky cuts across.

Phil pauses. He's still not flustered but Bucky can see a glimmer of surprise in his eyes "Stay where? I'm not following"

"Why did you stay with this team? All of your ties were cut. You could have gone"

Anyone who hadn't had the training that Bucky had would believe Phil Coulson to be the poster of calm openness, but Bucky can see the tension running far below his skin. "Loyalty"

Bucky smiles shallowly "Come on, Phil. We're veterans of the same damn game. Loyalty means nothing"

Phil shifts his head minisculey "Belief"

"Better" Bucky murmurs, shifting his arm so it flashes under the light "But it isn't the truth"

Phil Coulson is not an idiot. He looks long and hard at Bucky's metal arm, the fingers he's resting on the table twitching slightly "Love" he grits out "I stayed because of love"

Bucky doesn't speak, not because he doesn't believe it but because he's thinking hard. At first, there's a twist in his belly as he thinks _Nat,_ but that thought leaves him almost as quick as it comes. No, not Natasha. Bucky thinks of the way Clint had smiled softly when Bucky had asked him about Coulson months ago.

No. Not Natasha at all.

Coulson frowns "I know you think I'm not telling the truth but--"

"I believe you" Bucky says, relaxing his posture back to comfortable civilian "Does he know?"

Coulson sighs "That was a play, wasn't it? God I hate Russian spies. And yes. We're married"

It's Bucky's turn to be surprised. He'd been very happy to learn that queer people-- or as Jane said El-Gee-Bee-Tee-- could get married in the future. He'd told Steve straight away and Steve had laughed " _I know Bucky, I cried too_ "

"Does the team know that?" Bucky asks.

Coulson laughs "Just Romanov. Now did you get what you wanted to hear?"

"Better than I hoped" Bucky says, smiling "I wanted to know how tied up I was in all this, how much thread you'd wrap about me to make me dance the way you wanted. But I get it now"

Coulson frowns "Pardon?"

"You're doing it because you actually want a better world. Not power, not wealth. You love someone, and you want that someone be happy. I trust that" Great love, just like ma said.

"You shouldn't" Coulson says, but he can't keep back the tiny smile on his face. "You're more of a romantic than I would have expected Barnes"

"I was a person before I was a weapon, you know" Bucky says.

Phil nods. "So you don't want a job, then?"

"I want a life" Bucky says, plain as day for the first time in years.

Coulson nods "Good choice. Now, Steve's making pancakes. Let's go"

Bucky laughs, and follows him out.

 

* * *

 

Mission Impossible: Get Tony And Steve To Admit Their Feelings finds its infancy at an Avengers Movie Night.

Tony had decided that it was time to introduce the pensioners to the wonders of Lindsey Lohan. They'd started with Freaky Friday, and then about a quarter of the way through Parent Trap Natasha and Bucky had looked at each other over Steve and Tonys heads.

There are upside to being ex- Russian agents. You can speak entire languages in looks and eyebrow twitches.

That night they meet on the roof. Bucky brings hot chocolate, Natasha brings highlighters and file paper.

"Operation; Stubborn Granddad's is ago" Natasha quips, gaze concentrated on the florescent pink heart she's colouring in. Bucky smiles at her, and then rebukes himself for finding her beautiful.

Bucky's busy taking the tiny plaits out of his hair-- Jane had put them in during Parent Trap. Natasha looks at him and snorts.

"You look ridiculous, James. Stop letting Jane treat you as a doll" She says, brushing more soil off've the alcove bench they're cloistered on.

"I don't mind it" Bucky says. Bucky stills as Nat reaches over, tucking a piece of frizzy hair mind Bucky's ear. Bucky keeps the blush beneath his skin, but it's still there.

Natasha's hand stills by his face. Her eyes are full "I don't like sex"

Bucky blinks "Me neither"

Natasha pulls back sharply, turning back to her drawing "Good. We're on the same page then"

Bucky stays quiet. Then..."Are we?"

Natasha doesn't answer. She just reaches her hand out, and twists her fingers with Bucky's.

 _Yes_ then, _on the same page._

"Right. So we have to make them admit to their feelings--"

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Bucky still dreams about firing bullets into the faces of crying men. He still thinks about blood when he sees the colour red. He still jumps at loud noises, a jump that goes through his whole body and leaves him unsettled for ages. He still wakes up screaming. He still wakes up not knowing his own name.

It's just that now he can walk over to Nat's room, covered in books and in poetry, and whisper _Natalya_. She will tell him his name is James. She will tell him about how the colour red cannot hurt them anymore. She will hold him.

He has dreams that look like nightmares in good-lighting but it's okay. No one's one hundred percent happy.

He remembers that.

 

* * *

 

"Okay" Clint says "So your great plan is....the most clichéd plan in all of existence"

Natasha shrugs, flopping down onto the sofa and laying her head in Bucky's lap. "They're idiots. They don't need a grand plot, they just need a shove out of the nest"

Bucky laughs, carding his hands through the red ribbons of Natasha's hair. She'd dyed it back. It's the only shade of red Bucky can stand.

From the pantry closet there's the sound of hammering. "How long have they been in there?"

Bucky shrugs "Ten minutes or so. They're being stubborn"

Bruce, who had steadfastedly ignored everything happening in the room in favour of his book, looks up in bewilderment "They're _them_. Duh"

"It should be a while then" Nat says. Closing her eyes and settling back for a nap.

* * *

  
**A Glance Inside The Pantry:**

"God I hate this team!"  
"Mmm"  
"I'm going to kick them out, I'm going to kick them all out the dickheads"  
"Sounds good"  
"What is even the point of this. Let us out! Natasha, _let us out_"  
"....."  
"Oh what is up with you Rogers? Don't you want to get out?"  
"Hm"  
"Jesus chri-- Bruce! Clint! Fucking anyone _open the door!_ "  
"Do you really not know what this is about, Tony?"  
"Uh, no? Sorry?"  
"Jesus fucking- it's about this, you idiot"  
"Wha--mm-...."

"...

"You kissed me!"  
"Okay? Get it now?"  
" _Steve_. God I've wanted that for so long"  
"Good. Other wise that would have been really awkward"

 

* * *

 

They let them out eventually. After Clint's slipped away to spend an evening with his husband and Bruce has gotten lost in his book again and nobody's yelled for at least ten minutes. They're kissing against the door. Natasha and Bucky laugh at them and leave them to their love.

"Come on" Bucky says "Let's go to bed"

 

* * *

 

They're lying on their sides on top of the covers, sunlight leaving dapples of light across their skin. It is so real it breaks his heart. You wouldn't know that in the minds of these two lovers was an arsenal unwillingly learnt. They are two sides of the same blood-soaked coin. They are fading sun. They are salt water and stony beaches and ugly flowers.

They are alive.

"I'm scared" Bucky says.

"Of what?"

"I'll never get older. I'm a mutant. I'll always be just this"

Natasha smiles, reaching out across the ocean of silk between them "There is no 'just' about you James. You're everything"

"But we can't grow old together" Bucky chokes out.

"We can't do a lot of things that other people would say we must-- that doesn't make us less. I love you, you love me. That is enough"

Bucky nods, leaning forward to rest is forehead against her collarbone.

After a while, Natasha speaks again. "They trained me to be a dancer.  
They lied to me my whole life, but that's the one lie I can't let go of" the silence in the room is tinged in 3pm sunlight and warm dust "I thought I was going to be a dancer and they made me into a weapon. From birth. There was no Natalya Romonova before there was a Natasha Romonov. I don't have anything to go back to, and that scares me. What if I'm nothing under the Black Widow?"

She smooths his hair down his neck and they're both shaking. They don't cry because neither of them quite know how, but their grief shifts beneath the tectonic plates of their skin. They quake.

"I know twelve languages, but I also know fifteen ways to kill a man with a spoon. I'll never be good. They took that from me. I will always terrify people, and I don't know if that could have been different. It hurts. Remembering my loss hurts. But how do you grieve for yourself? You can't. There is an ocean between what you remember and what truly was and there is no way to cross it. There is just acceptance and it doesn't feel like enough"

Natasha shifts her face so that their foreheads are pressed together.

"But it has to be, or the grief will kill you" she whispers, their breaths mingling "We are monsters, but we are worth love anyway. There are no fresh starts, just forgiven pasts"

"I chose you" she whispers, tangling her legs with him "I get to chose you"

He grins at her and tries to put every exploding star into it- beauty and pain and what is lost and never coming back.

He thinks, as they doze away, of all the lives that have been lost and all the lives that are just now beginning. Pain and hope are never singular. They come paired, as everything else does, and the world remains balanced. It is not magic. Just human beings with free will and free heart, choosing to keep moving forward.

When Bucky Barnes is eighteen years old, his body stops changing. When he is eighty-eight he decides to start changing again.

It is never too late to forgive yourself.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

>   
>  _**"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover the prisoner was you" - Lewis B. Smedes** _
> 
>  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :-) leave a comment if you like xx
> 
> additional note: i headcanon Natasha in this as asexual but panromantic and Bucky with basically no interest in sex for whatever reason . however this is just my opinion and you can imagine them as any sexuality you want :) im not used to writing/reading a straight bucky barnes tho lol


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